


A Different Kind of Science

by GrumpyJenn



Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Abby isn't stupid, Crossover, Gibbs' Rules, Humor, Potential Gibbs Slap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:29:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: "Wouldn't it be great if there was a crossover, Mom?"





	A Different Kind of Science

**Author's Note:**

> "Wouldn't it be great if there was a crossover, Mom?"

Abby looked at the men in her lab. They looked dangerous, desperate. And they were _in her lab_.

But one of them, the tall one, he held a Caf-POW! out to her and smiled.

Very cute smile. Almost as cute as Timmy’s.

And Gibbs was there, and the rest of the team was on their way, so it wasn’t like they had invaded her lab without permission, even if it wasn’t _her_ permission.

The shorter one – the one who was her height with heels on – was trying to bully his way past Gibbs, using an FBI badge that Abby could tell was fake from where she stood, and it’s not like Fornell wouldn’t have warned them if his guys were going to invade her lab.

Gibbs, of course, wasn’t having any. He just stood there, an inch or so shorter than the smaller guy, four or five shorter than the tall one, and stared them down and said, “No.”

Just no. For Gibbs that was usually all it took, and Abby was grateful.

Being Abby, she was also curious.

“But Caf-POW! Gibbs!” He glanced at her, and his entire stance softened, just as the rest of the troops came in. Her people, all of them: Tony, Ziva, Timmy, Ducky, even Jimmy. They’d all come, whether because Gibbs had summoned them or because they wanted to protect her, Abby didn’t know. She didn’t care.

Reaching out to grab the drink, she looked up – way up – at the tall one. “Whaddaya want?” He glanced at the other guy, got a tiny nod and a grimace, and started to explain that they needed a good forensic lab, told her that hers was the best in the country. “Flattery, huh? You’re not wrong; it _is_ the best.” She gave them both a long, slow look. “What is it you’re not saying? Why would we – NCIS – help you guys out? You’re not Navy, that’s for sure. Not even FBI: Timmy could make better fake IDs than those with a laptop and some Scotch tape.”

McGee had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Look, sister…” The shorter guy started, but the other one interrupted.

“We can’t tell you, you wouldn’t believe us. We’ve seen things…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Gibbs leaned back, letting Abby take the lead. There was a ghost of a grin on his face, and Tony’s smile was more than a ghost. McGee and the autopsy team looked interested, and Ziva rolled her eyes but held her tongue, getting subtly into the kind of fighting stance that meant she’d protect them all if she needed to.

“Oh? Think I wouldn’t believe it? What? Ghoulies, ghosties, long legged beasties?” Abby pointedly looked up and down the taller guy’s yard or so of leg. She flashed him a smile and now _he_ looked embarrassed.

“Sorry. It’s just that most military types don’t believe in the kinds of things we’ve seen,” the shorter one said in a not-very-sorry tone. Trying to butter her up, was he? She gave him a closer look. And flirting, too. Yeah, not her type.

“Rule Six,” Abby heard, muttered from Tony’s direction.

“Do I look military to you?” Abby gestured at her outfit. Yes, they were combat boots with the schoolgirl plaid, but most combat boots didn’t have glittery rainbow laces either. “At least tell us your names; I can’t just keep thinking of you as “the tall one” and “the flirty bully,” can I?”

“Ouch,” the bully said, but he backed off, both the flirting and the bullying. Interesting. “Just tell ‘er, Sam.” Gibbs looked like he was aching to smack them both upside the back of the head.

“Ah, okay, well, I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We’re ah… hunting a… well a thing that…” He trailed off again. Abby sighed.

“ _What_? Are you hunting faeries, witches, ghosts, vampires, maybe even a lamia or some Hellhounds? What?” The two men – Brothers Sam and Dean – gaped at her, and she rolled her eyes. “Silver knife,” Abby said patiently, pointing at Dean’s left hip. “Also iron filings and salt crystals on the hem of your shirt, Sam.”

Gibbs started to laugh quietly, and Abby beamed at him.

“Now, boys,” she said, and watched them both wince. She rubbed her hands together, then gestured at the bank of computers behind her. “What can _my_ boys and I do for you?”


End file.
